


In the Colors, I Saw You

by dandelionboys



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Angst, M/M, Rating will change, There will be romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-18 05:14:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3557336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dandelionboys/pseuds/dandelionboys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He studied people as part of his job. He watched them, and with it came thoughts, and with those came the man.</p>
<p>God knows it was never the man's shots that did him in, or his stupid pajamas, or the way he smelled, or the way he talked or got excited when he had a new experiment, or how he looked when he was tired, or...</p>
<p>... Sniper never meant to fall in love with the Medic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_RED base- September 14th, 2200 hours, present time_

There was a person who once said that the saddest thing about betrayal was that it never came from your enemies.

And as he took a breath, he felt a curling in his stomach that burned and told him just how much the other mattered, despite his want to deny the pain. It hurt, and that was the ultimate price the Sniper had to pay for loving a man who would never stay.

His voice rose up in the cold night, bitterly taken by the slight breeze in the desert in waiting for the next train to come and take all the mercs away from the base. In a few hours, everything and everyone would be gone with no hope of ever keeping in contact, and he just lost the one person he’d gained in his life that changed his whole being, broke the shell that he’d properly, carefully built up over the years in lieu of his job and absence of other people’s presences.

The Sniper squeezed his eyes shut and ignored the burning underneath his eyelids.

“Ah, hell…” he whispered to the quiet night, and finally gave into the violent whirlwind somewhere deep in his heart, curling up his knees to his chest.

 

 

_RED base- November 20th of previous year, 1800 hours_

The Sniper was a good 6 feet tall, built lanky and thin with just enough muscle to run off into distances over a mile and hoist himself up in obscure places. Maybe enough to chop a thigh in half, too, if he needed. He was a good, silent man who kept a calm and collected profile, who rarely acted rash, as he either followed planned orders, or his instinct, or both, and that was that. It was a simple life, and when he joined the RELIABLE EXCAVATION DEMOLITION company, it had been no different.

The rules were rather easy: work together, kill, don’t form relationships of any sort (especially with the enemy team), kill more, no real names, and do as the Administrator said. No matter what. He was allowed to keep his van, and trade in and out of sleeping in it and his room, and he got to do as he pleased with himself and his given free time – which there was plenty.

When meal times came around periodically, he found himself, like everyone else in the base, hungry and waiting in the mess hall. There was the Heavy – a big man, the only other taller than him, with a strong fondness for guns and medics- who sat down at the end of the table in a chair built for him. Next to him was by no surprise, the Medic, who looked awfully haggard and whose hair was loosely falling into his meal as he laid his head onto the table.

 _Poor guy_ , Sniper smiled wryly. _Worked himself dry_.

Beside the tired Doctor was a mostly drunk Demoman, hand reliably on a bottle of booze and the other on a spoon as he took turns shoving whatever he could from both into his mouth. The Spy, across from him, was just as mysterious and unknown as earlier that day, and the day before that and the day before that.

The Sniper allowed himself a brief snicker as he watched the Spy grimace and eye the RED Demo, who ate happily and tended to talk with his mouth full.

“Stretch, you better hurry or the Scout’s gonna get it all!”

The Scout, Pyro, and Engineer were all in line in front of the stove, as apparently the Engineer had done the cooking that night. The only merc not around was the soldier, who Sniper briefly noted was yelling in the hallway about something probably unimportant.

Sniper cracked a short grin as he turned to the shorter man who had caught his eye, and grabbed a plate of fried chicken and peas. “You better grab one then too, else he’s gonna eat the rest.” He spared the Scout a glance, but spoke to the other.

Engineer just smiled and shook his head, but took his fill as well before he was lightly shoved aside by the muttering boy – speak of the devil.

“Stupid… ya better fuck off or I’mma beat you, man. I’m hungry and you’re not going to stop me now from eatin,” the Scout grumbled, snatching away some utensils and a can of Bonk near the sink. It had been a long day for all of them, after all. Tied with BLU.

Sniper sat down next to the Demoman, the Scout settling in next to him and digging in quickly into his meal. _Jesus the boy could eat fast_ …

Had he eaten as fast as him, maybe the Australian would have missed the look the Spy gave him as well.

Sniper shrugged in reply to the raised eyebrow, and lifted up a fork and began to eat just the same. As he chewed, he watched the others. It was something he frequently found himself doing, as it was part of his job to keep a lookout no matter what. Danger, and stuff like that. Spies mostly.

Speaking of, the Spy across from Demo sighed and started to stab at the fried chicken mercilessly with a knife, not unlike he would a person. The man, in turn, eyed the chicken with a bit of pity, but then promptly took a swig of his drink and burped. The Medic mumbled quietly against his plate, which sounded a lot like an “excuse you”, but then again, Sniper couldn’t really hear through the peas that muffled the man’s voice.

“Doctor, I’m thinking you need sleep.” Heavy set a large hand on the man’s back carefully, trying not to mush his face farther into the peas. “You are not… well.” He grimaced and looked at the potatoes on the side of the dish.

A huff and a quiet confirmation of ‘ja’, was enough for the Russian to pick the man up by his collar and lift him off his seat, one or two peas falling off the usually-distinguished man’s cheeks.

The Heavy drifted his eyes at the rest of the group, nodding. “Will see you tomorrow. Will do better in battle, yes?” A half-hearted confirmation floated around, but it satisfied the man who enough to drag Medic back to the doctor’s quarters.

Sniper’s eyes trailed the two as they left, Heavy pushing the doctor through the doorway and shuffling behind him. You’d think the man would sleep more, being a doctor and all. Doctors were known for knowing health, and for a man who used to be certified – though somewhat dubiously- he wasn’t very good to himself. Or, quite frankly, to any one of his patient’s, as Sniper grimaced and remembered the man happily digging through his guts. ‘Necessary surgery’, the man had said. Sniper just thought he probably wanted his hands dirty again.

Scout’s fork clattered on his plate, and drew Sniper’s eyes away from the now empty doorway.

The boy hopped off his seat quickly, leaving a messy plate behind in his wake, and ran out of the room with his can of unfinished Bonk in hand.

“You would think the boy would learn some manners after living with some of us, but apparently I was wrong. Who has the dishes tonight or shall I be forced to do them once more?” The Spy wrinkled his nose and stared down at the group at the table.

A few mumbles answered him, until the flurrying figure of Pyro jumped up behind him and waved their hands around in a few gestures that were most likely meant to signify his job tonight.

As Spy backed away with his hands up, he nodded. “Yes, yes, yours tonight. I will be… elsewhere now. Goodnight, monsieurs.” Brushing his hands on his pants lightly as he turned, he walked hesitantly around Pyro and out the door as well.

The dirty dishes were piled up in the sink by the time the Sniper set his in, sending an apologetic smile towards the masked merc, who just hummed and continued scrubbing relentlessly.

 

Back in his van, out of the wind from the desert, he laid down on his cot with a cup of quickly made coffee. The cot was always a bit short for him, so he settled with slouching on the wall behind him, pillows thrown loosely to support his back.

He closed his eyes and enjoyed the solitude the place invited, musing over the day’s work, and what the next would bring. He’d been meaning to get one of the new gun catalogs, and remembered the Heavy and the Engineer discussing over breakfast the other day a sort of ‘move’ between bases soon. Something about cold.

Sniper drew his tongue over his teeth, a fuzzy feeling on his tongue leaving the taste of coffee slightly unpleasant. He sighed. Whether or not what they said was true didn’t matter much. He was being paid to kill people, after all (despite them never really permanently dying) and the environment didn’t factor in. Unless of course, it was so horrible that he couldn’t scope out the field he was working in.

There was snow, the Heavy had said. Snow, and cold brisk air. Mountains?

Sniper clicked his tongue, lightly fingering the edge of the mug before placing it down on some flat surface nearby. His legs, long and hairy as always, crossed and he slid down the wall till they bunched up and he could lay down comfortably on his stomach. He turned his head under him till he faced the open van, and eyed the slight mess from the week. A few t-shirts, some dirty dishes from when he hadn’t felt like eating with the group, some empty and filled jarate jars. Nothing out of the usual. Just him, and the left overs of his life he left behind.

With nothing left to mull over, he pulled the covers over his torso and let his eyes slide shut as he drifted off to sleep.

Tomorrow would come soon, and the fights would start over like clockwork.


	2. Chapter 2

_December 13th, 2300 hours_

The wind whistled against the metal walls of his van, the enclosed space barely keeping the air warm as it rattled away outside. The bed itched his skin as he looked up at the tight shadows in the corners and held back a sigh that was sure to create a cloud among the sheets that the Sniper had tightly wrapped around his body. They were wool, and itchy, and old, but considering he could be inside amongst eight other mercenaries that he was sure he could not socialize with, the Sniper couldn’t complain.

This was his home.

Or, well, at least his van he slept in.

Moving to this new base had been less than pleasant, and he wasn’t sure if he liked the idea of sleeping in the building or his van more at this point. It seems traitorous to abandon sleeping in his van, as he always slept in it, but now… now it was just too damn cold.

The RED Sniper licked his lips that had gone dry for a long time now, curious as to whether chapstick was at all readily available.

As he let out a hot breath and tuckered back into the makeshift nest of quilts and pillows, his eyes slid shut, watching the vapor from his lungs slowly curl up like a cat to the roof of the van before vanishing into the night where the blasting wind outside lulled the man to sleep like white noise.

 

 

_December 14th, 0700 hours_

Winter was rough, and hit the base in the mountains much like a stack of textbooks would crush a cupcake on a table. That is to say, it smashed everything in sight with white snow and ice so heavy that the old wood groaned under the weight. Indeed, the mercenaries were exhausted and shivering, and could hardly put up a good fight as they complained about frozen toes and fingers as noses when they went outside. The only one who was happy at all about the weather was the Heavy, who admitted to the others once they stopped grumbling that he had missed this type of atmosphere, as it had apparently reminded him of home and “It is fun, the snow. Even more fun was sitting with fire and drinking sbiten and telling stories. Da, good times.”

The mercs were nodding lazily and getting breakfast when Sniper walked in, Heavy turning to great him with the others.

“You have tried sbiten?”

Sniper shuffled around a bit until he had his normal cup of coffee and shook the remaining snow off his arms and hair from the trek before answering.

“Nah.”

Sniper eyed the Heavy who considerably cheered up and clapped his hands on the table. “Sbiten is good, I am sure we could make it well. Would help with the cold, too. Better than coffee, or liquor.”

The Demoman, strung over one of the couch’s armrests, vaguely mumbled in protest before going back to snoring.

Sniper almost laughed. Almost, but damn he was cold and that sleep last night was not good.

“Yeah, yeah. Sure I bet. Medic might like to help you with that,” he coughed out.

Medic, whose head was on the table next to a rather large teetering cup of tea, quietly lifted at his name and gave a questioning sound.

“Was?”

“Doktor will help to make sbiten, yes?”

Sniper sipped his coffee quietly, leaning against the chilly cabinets as he looked from the Heavy to their ‘Doktor’, who was obviously not quite yet coherent.

“Ja, ja, perhaps later Heavy,” the Medic waved a hand lazily and rested his head back onto the tabletop and sighed. “It is too cold for fighting today. Or tomorrow. Verdammt weather.”

Sniper lost interest in watching the two as the Heavy chuckled and patted the Medic on the back and began quietly conversing with him, so his eyes drew across the room to the rest of the mercs who were caught up in their own little morning routines. Scout, the bundle of energy who normally was up and running by this point on a normal day, was taken by the cold, and had a hefty blanket draped over his shoulders as he stared into his murky bowl of cereal on the table. Pyro was nowhere to be seen, as per usual, but Sniper bet he could faintly hear the shower on so that counted him off his mental list. Spy was lounging contentedly, though also in a blanket and slippers, looking very much like his regal pompous self. Sniper scowled as Spy met his eye and smirked, turning back to whatever magazine was in his hands. That ass.

Soldier and the Engineer sat next to each other, huddled over a small map and planning out the day’s activities and routes. Granted, as Sniper watched them with a grim smile, they were also doing it reluctantly.

“I don’t reckon going through any pipes would work, son. All frozen over. We’d be goners more than we are now if we’re near ice.”

“Yo, Hardhat.”

The Engineer looked up to Scout who was grimacing meekly from his bundle of blankets.

“Think we can y’know… not fight today? It’s fucking cold and ‘imma bout freeze my balls off if I’m any colder than I am now.”

Around the room were quiet agreements that supported the usually annoying boy.

“I do think, labourer, we deserve some sort of rest from this detestable wind and snow, yes? Perhaps someone should contact the Administrator. As Scout put it, we will all freeze if we deal with this much longer.” The Spy rubbed his face as he spoke up, sitting out of his chair and walking over gracefully to the Engineer to peer down at him. “Surely you cannot take this damnable weather either?”

Engineer sat back and sighed. “Spy, you know none of us but Heavy can stand this cold.” He threw a look at Heavy, who shrugged and went back to quietly talking with the Medic. “If I could throw a good word in with Helen, I would. But Helen’s not too keen with me, it’d be better if you do it. You… know her better than the rest of us.”

The Spy had a cigarette in his mouth the next moment Sniper looked at him, and let out a breath of smoke. “Perhaps you are right. I will go do that then.”

Sniper snickered as the Spy’s face contorted, giving off just what he thought about talking with the cold old lady.

He shot out a quick “Have fun,” as the Spy passed him and glared, blowing a cloud of smoke into his face. It faded up into the creaking rafters as Sniper watched, breaking eye contact in the process, and he was content enough to not spit out a retort. Instead, he took a final sip out of his mug to set it in the sink.

“Do not know why you are such babies. The cold is good for men. You are men at war, but babies in this weather. It is stupid.”

Sniper deadpanned as he looked at Heavy, who was frowning in confusion at the others, and obviously done speaking to the Medic who still had a weary head on the table. “Well maybe if we grew up in Russia, we’d be taken to the cold like ye, but I’m from freakin' Australia, mate. Cold doesn’t exist t’ me.”

The Heavy shook his head. “We are here for the next half year, maybe. You will get used to it.”

Medic suddenly let out a huge groan, startling the room as if they all thought him to be asleep. “Heavy, do not remind us. I am going back to my rooms. Wake me if there will be war, leave me alone if there will not. Goodnight.” The Medic pushed up roughly and walked out of the room, leaving the seven others to turn to Heavy in his wake.

Heavy looked back before shaking his head and getting up to follow the men, but not before muttering about such babies under his breath.

As the room cleared out one by one, the Sniper took a seat upon the couch and leaned back contentedly to wait for news. The place was quiet, unusual for the hustling and bustling group that normally took its place in the morning to wake each other up. But then again, as Sniper snorted to himself, this was not the base back in the desert. In the desert it was hot and dry and bright, and normally drew him out of bed sweaty and dying for a shower before helping to plan the battle for the day. Here… nah, here was the opposite.

The Sniper yawned, covering his mouth just as the Spy cleared his throat from above him.

“Yeh?” He cracked an eye open at the man hopefully.

“The Administrator has decided to be… thoughtful today, it appears. Enjoy freedom from the cold, bushman.” Sniper grinned as Spy patted his shoulder and gave a genuine smile. “I shall go inform the others.”

Sighing happily, he slouched further into the couch and curled up for warmth. Thank the heavens, or whatever luck gave the Administrator a good mood today. He was not in the mood for anything but staying warm and finding additional blankets.

Speaking of blankets, the Sniper sat up and wrapped his arms around his body to peer over the couch and around the room. Where would they be? In his own room, probably.

He huffed and shuffled out, into the narrow corridor that held their individual rooms. Sniper eyed the Pyro’s room, where he faintly heard excited muffling and a cracking noise. At the end of the hall was his own, across from the Heavy’s, where he could hear footsteps and a clicking noise that was most likely a suitcase. He would have stayed longer in the hall if he wasn’t dying to grab those toasty warm, delicious blankets…

He slithered inside quickly, shutting the door behind him and rushing to the closet. The air around him hung chilled and dusty while the wind shook the thin window outside, while the snow blocked half the light. But it was enough to see as he shuffled through the contents of boxes and scrap metal, and finally upon a pile of blankets.

“God yes.” The Sniper shook the blankets out, smiling as lint and dust came off of them and made him cough roughly. One was red and thick, made of wool, and the second a lighter cotton one. There was a third one on the shelf, but it looked badly ripped and of no use.

So, content with the findings and feeling a little silly, wrapped himself into a cocoon of wool and cotton. Now, to complete the look, he had to go find a cup of cocoa or maybe take the Heavy up on that drink he mentioned.

Sniper looked at the door. It was, of course, still shut, but the thought of spending time along with any one of the mercs other than the Engineer, made him feel a little uneasy. Being social was never quite his forte after all, since it came with his job and his personality not to interact so much.

He steeled himself, and with a second thought, just decided to go with whatever popped up. He could deal with company if it was for warmth, after all. Maybe...

His hand cracked the door open quietly into the hallway and he briefly looked at Heavy’s symbol on the door before stepping out, the blankets trailing lightly behind his feet. He tightened his grip a bit to keep them closer.

“Ah, herr Sniper! Just the man we were looking for!”

Sniper squawked, jerking backwards at the sudden man that stepped in front of him.

“Heavy and I were gathering everyone to go make his drink and we have told everyone to meet in the kitchen again.” Medic grinned and looked at the blankets that probably were making Sniper look very childish at the moment. “Looks warm, you have a good idea. Brings those blankets with you when you come?”

Sniper grunted, and quelled the urge to turn back or look away. He shouldn’t have come out of his room like that, as embarrassment caused a rise of anxiety in his chest. Caught with two draped blankets over his shoulders like a kid, really, how stupid. He pushed the feeling down as best as he could.

“Good! Come, Heavy, let us go grab those ingredients. Honey, cloves, and cinnamon?”

“Da. Cardamom and ginger also.”

Sniper quietly shuffled behind them, fighting the desire to hide away anywhere out of the eyes of the two men.

“Sniper, stand up straight. Come, it is bad enough you slouch over so much over your guns.”

He froze under the gaze of Medic. He desperately did not want to be around people who abashed him for the things he did…

Sniper licked his dry lips and let himself glance back at his door longingly.

“Oh come now, I was only teasing! Do not think about turning back to your rooms now, we will drag you out since you agreed to it first.” The Medic grinned lightly, and Sniper’s heart flopped with his nerves as the doctor latched his arm onto the man’s shoulder and steered him in front. “On you go. Mein gott you are like a frightened rabbit.”

Sniper frowned, but walked forward to the kitchen as the doctor sighed. The Spy looked over to him and raised an eyebrow at his makeshift gown, but said nothing. Scout on the other hand…

“Dude! God I should have kept mine on, gimme one of those blankets, yeah? Yo, come on don’t be a dick!”

“Oi, shut it kid, these are mine.” Sniper tugged at the wool as the younger tried to get it from him. “Go get your own.”

“Yeah, where? In your van?”

He rolled his eyes before directing the shivering boy towards his own rooms to find a pair in his closet. In the meantime, as Scout ran to the corridor, he took a seat at the table were a few bowls of spices sat, and Medic was starting to sort them. Beside him sat the Pyro, watching his hands fiddle with the sticks of cinnamon and muttering quietly.

“Pass the Cardamom pods.”

Sniper looked up to the Medic’s hand in his face, and then picked up the pods to his left and set them down in front of the doctor.

“Danke.” The man had an intense look of concentration on his face for something as simple as following a recipe. Sniper found it a little funny, and allowed himself to sit and watch the doctor work on something other than guts and medicine. The man’s hands had been rid of the red rubber gloves they usually adorned, and his sleeves had been pushed up to his elbows. He had not changed his outfit really, preferring to always look at least slightly professional due to the fact he ‘was always on the job, after all someone will always be getting wounds’ in his words. The watch on his wrist ticked away as he shifted around and measured the pods, and then the honey which drizzled out of the bottle slowly. Then came the ginger, and lemon zest, and what Sniper guessed was chopped mint leaves judging by the smell. The man’s eyes kept to the bowls the whole time, looking through his glasses as his tongue poked out from between his lips. The Sniper guessed the man didn’t even notice he was doing it.

The studying kept him busy up until the man cracked his knuckles and sat up straight to grin at him. Blinking, Sniper drew his eyes over to Heavy, who towered over the stove top stirring a pot of steaming water. He shouldn’t have stared, he told himself as he felt a small wave of worry pass through his chest and cause his face to feel warm. He just hoped it didn't show behind his glasses.

“The spices are ready?” The man looked over his shoulder at the doctor, who sat up and carried a bowl in each hand to pass him them.

Sniper watched as the doctor leaned over the stove next to Heavy, taking over the stirring from his hands and trading it for the spices, which Heavy poured in one at a time. Medic said something, and grinned up at the giant, who laughed quietly in return and grabbed another bowl.

“Not usually this distracted Mick. What’s up?”

Sniper stole his eyes away from the pair and looked at the Engineer who took Medic’s spot. “Ah, yeah. ‘M just tired really. Last night’s wind and all was rough on the old van.”

The shorter of the two hummed in thought, “Well maybe ya ought to camp in tonight. Surely your van doesn’t stay that warm, and I’ve just ‘bout fixed the heater here. Might take another hour or two to finish it up, but it’ll be running good as new soon I betcha.”

While he liked the thought of being warm, he couldn’t help but sigh and disagree. “My room’s cold as all else. Snow packed up tight t’ the window an’ all. Reckon it won’t be getting any warmer any time soon.”

Engineer gave him a pointed look, “Plus too many people around, right?”

With a sheepish smile, he turned away, “Don’t like too much company in the morning, y’know that.”

Thankfully the Scout barged back in the kitchen, cutting off whatever spiel the other man was going to play.

“I found like… five blankets dude! Some got holes, but who cares they’re like crazy warm. This one’s itchy as hell though, but it’s super thick and check it! There was even a quilt! Looks like something my grandma had, so it’s pretty stupid looking but I mean, better than nothing right!” The Scout ran around and tucked the blankets under his chin to gaze down at how they enveloped his feet. Almost tripped over the ends too, if the Engineer hadn’t caught them, poking fun at the boy's antics as he did so.

The Sniper laughed under his breath, too, surprised that this wasn’t as horribly uncomfortable as he dreaded it would be. Sometimes when the group got together, it wasn’t all too pleasant, and some had ended a few times with fights and trips to the Medic’s office. He wanted to avoid that, if possible.

For now, however, he’d be content with sitting back on the chair and watching his team members chatting idly with their free time, and waiting around for the duo group of Medic and Heavy to finish whatever drink this was. Maybe it would even taste good.

With Heavy there, the drink was surely not going to have any sort of weird body parts, so that was a bonus.

“Scout, grab the mugs from the cupboard next to you, bitte?”

He watched the young man reach up and pass the old mugs to the doctor.

“How many?”

“Count. How many of us are here?”

Sniper fought back a cruel snicker as he watched Scout have to do just that, and pass a few more down the line.

 

 

The sound of drinks being finally poured eventually broke him out of a light doze, and the clinking of them setting down on the table in front of him was persuasive enough to get his feet off the table and sit properly. The smell of spices and honey drifted around the room, and Sniper breathed it in heavily.

“Smells good, mate.” He nodded up to the Heavy next to him, who smiled widely and held out a mug to him to take. “Ah, thanks.” He hummed around the lip as he sipped the still steaming drink, it washing down his throat warmly.

Medic sat down beside him and took his own cup, taking a gulp greedily.

“Hah. Hot! All the better for this weather, don’t you agree Herr Sniper?”

“No doubt the bushman agrees. After all, who does not? We have been working in the desert for the past year and now this extreme! Bah!” The Spy shook his head in contempt for his employers as he butted into the conversation (however lacking it might have been, on Sniper’s part). Sniper only minutely agreed with a small nod. Spy was right on both notes.

Sniper curled his hands around the mug on the table, enjoying the feel of warmth seeping through his glove and onto his skin. While the drink didn’t wake him up like a good cup of coffee could, the sbiten was pleasant and left him feeling full and tired. He’d have to remind himself to thank the Heavy later. Not now, though, as he looked up at the large man who was in a conversation with the Engineer.

The drink in his hands was soon gone, as he spent the time sipping instead of talking, so he put it down next to the sink after rinsing it out. He was wiping his hands on the dish towel when Medic came up behind him and coughed.

“Ah, Sniper, before you go. I thought I’d inform you that everyone’s checkups and due shots will be coming soon in the next two weeks or so. Yours is one of the last but still.” The Doctor set his cup next to the Sniper’s and smiled at the other man. Sniper again felt nervousness immediately flood his limbs as the doctor continued to talk, but tuned him out in favor of slowly backing away. Sweat beaded his forehead quickly, despite the cold atmosphere.

Checkups he could do. Shots he could not.

Sniper bolted out the door, his day officially worsened.

He faintly heard Medic call out behind him. “Sniper! Where are you…!” The rest was muffled as he slammed the door shut to his room and practically drove straight into the dusty mattress.

He muttered into the flattened pillow, fretfulness turning his stomach in rolls unhappily.

“Dammit...” There was no possible way to forget about having a ‘Doctor’s Appointment’ without some semblance of complete and utter distraction. This night was bound to be another sleepless one.

Sniper rolled over onto his back and covered his face with one hand. The other creeped under his shirt to rub at his stomach in an attempt to quell the nerves going haywire. He shuffled some blankets around his feet until he felt decently covered enough to burrow in them. As the shivers died down in his shoulders, he breathed out, trying to calm down, taking off his sunglasses to set them on the nightstand next to the bed. He blinked lazily under the sheets that covered his head, and while the thought of escaping to the nearest town for the next week entered it, it was brief. Plus, he wasn’t sure what the towns here in the mountains were like, and seclusion was better than being surrounded by folk he didn’t know.

He rubbed at the stubble on his jaw and yawned.

Maybe a small road trip? He had seen some nice trails on the way here, and he could use a break from the snow to go a little farther down the mountain and camp under some trees. It had been a while since he’d been able to make a decent campfire that wasn’t surrounded by sand…

Of course, it couldn’t be next week, Sniper thought as he turned onto his side and rested a hand under his head. Medic had said he would be one of the last, so maybe the week after that. It would still be cold, considering it was winter here, but it wouldn’t be as windy or covered in snow. Yes, it was a good idea.

Sniper mentally wrote a list of things he needed to buy before he would go, as well as a note he would have to write his group to tell them. And of course, ask for the week off in a convincing fashion. It wouldn’t be too hard though, as he hadn’t taken many vacation days since he’d started working. Once, a while back to visit for three days back home, and another to just get away. He deserved a week.

Stretching his back, his bones popped and he lazily shifted some more.

_Gotta buy some more coffee, too, I suppose… Some soup for dinner, though hunting should take care of a majority of the meals. Might be able to bring back some, too, for Truckie to grill. Matches, too. Beer. I’m pretty sure there’s none left in the fridge? Yeah, Scout drank the last in one go. I’ll have to break out my extra sleeping bags, I think, if it’s gonna get that cold…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd so mistakes are mine.  
> The idea for sbiten came from another fanfic, although I cannot recall which one is was or who it was by, though I tried for the past two hours to find it.  
> Also I am having difficulties getting this to update, so apologies if it is working.


	3. Chapter 3

_December 23rd, 1800 hours_

In the end, after a week of fighting and convincing the Administrator to let him get time off- five days’ worth- Sniper went camping. It was much needed, and much deserved in his opinion, as he closed his eyes and pulled his jacket around his torso. The wind was chilly, and the air brisk and blowing through the old pine trees. With each footstep, the crunch of dried leaves and forest dirt left behind soft footprints, and he breathed it in. With the night setting in, and a hike into the middle of nowhere, he felt like he could do anything. No one could stop him, now.

He could hike for miles and disappear completely if he wanted…

But of course, Sniper wouldn’t do that. As he looked up at the dimming sky, and the first stars shined through the dark, he smiled and something in his chest opened up.

He felt like he could fly if he started running quickly enough. His feet picked up, and the man cracked a grin, full of teeth, and his feet thumped on the ground faster. The wind whistled past, and his backpack, flung on shoulders loosely, bounced with each footfall, and then he was. The Sniper laughed, and felt free.

And with the birds and trees and animals for company, and the burning in his chest from running out of breath, it with the most exquisite feeling.

Here, this was where he belonged.

He broke out of the trees into the far meadow, and there was the Earth spread out all just for him.

“Beautiful” he laughed out, in between his harsh breaths.

 

 

Camping was like sitting in a room that had endless possibilities, no burdens to bear, no weight to drag, a full meal you had no pressure to make right by societies’ expectations.

It was, to put shortly, like a smile you didn’t have to direct to anyone. Easy, simple, for your own health.

Sniper found himself hardly hiding those as he stirred his pot that steamed with rabbit and ginger, among other ingredients he threw in at wish. Maybe it would taste bad, but by no means did anyone but him have to eat it after all. He blew the steam off the surface as it grew hotter.

Fine by him.

He scooped it up quickly in a spare bowl with a ladle and dug in.

 

 

_December 25th_

Smissmass day was spent relaxing next to a lake, trying for some fish. There was a quick trip down to a phone where he called his pop and ma, and wished them a Merry Smissmas, ‘hope they got his gift in the mail’. He watched the sky bloom with clouds, and the shroud of mist that covered the lake eventually faded come midday. By that time, the Sniper had been up and about, hunting a bit more for dinner.

It was easy, and enjoyable.

 

 

_December 29th, 2300 hours_

To be fair, when he left for vacation, Sniper had planned to be back in five days. But when his van broke down halfway down Highway 81, he had to walk to the nearest rest stop for help and call someone. And when he had to wait for that guy to get there, some car chase with police involved messed the highway up and delayed a bunch of traffic. So traffic jams were a thing, especially when the car chase ended up in a crash later along the road.

So when Sniper late in the day after, tired and grumpy, with little in his stomach, he was a bit peeved that the Soldier chose that exact moment to barge into the kitchen and berate him for his lateness and “un-Americanness”, whatever that had meant. It, of course woke everyone else up in the yelling, which in turn gave the Sniper a headache.

So no one could really blame him, okay, when he blew up.

“SHUDDUP, ALL OF YOU!”

The group jumped and their eyes widened at the seething man.

“If y’aller gonna be a bunch of twits, I’mma go to bed now if you don’t mind.”

The Medic cleared his throat. “Herr Sniper, you missed a checkup today, yes? Come to my lab tomorrow before the battle starts otherwise you cannot participate.”

Sniper flashed his eyes at the German and gritted his teeth in frustration. He hated shots, and just spent five whole days trying to forget about that one little thing.

“Fine,” he ground out.

“Good,” Medic nodded and walked briskly out of the room, somehow still managing to look dignified despite wearing a pair of dove pajamas, the Heavy tailing his heels. The Scout, eyes glazed with sleep, followed them. The rest filtered out one by one until Soldier left (forgetting why he had been there in the first place), leaving only the stressed man behind.

Sniper rubbed at his temples and gripped the counter tightly, fighting the urge to break one of the dishes. It would surely come off his paycheck.

_Right, breathe. Sleep can come soon. Just grab a bowl, and some milk and cereal and you’ll be out of there easy-peasy_.

Sniper let his head fall back onto the wooden cabinets, giving his brain a break from thinking. He cracked open his eyes that had fallen shut, and stared at the plastered ceiling. It was chipping in some places, he noted in the new quiet. The wooden walls seemed to be holding up fine, though. In fact, they were amazing considering the blasted wind that could crawl through the base and drive its people up the walls with the cold.

The man sighed again as he scratched at the stubble on his chin, and got his hands on some utensils and food.

With a full belly- or somewhat at least- he slipped back to his room.

 

 

_December 30th , 0700 hours_

“Where do you intend to go, Sniper? Do not think you can escape me!”

Sniper frowned and turned around a corner quickly, diving into a nearby cupboard to evade the Medic that was practically hunting him down. He glanced down at his watch. 30 minute until battle, surely he could hide for that long, right? After all, he had managed until now to get out of getting a shot like the rest of the mercs.

“Verdammt man. I swear…”

Sniper tilted his head towards the door in order to hear the other muttering under his breath, probably looking for him. He heard the doctor’s footsteps on the hardwood floors, clacking against it as the man opened a door down the hall.

Medic addressed someone, his voice fading away and Sniper finally let out a sigh of relief. The man was sure scary when he wanted to be.

He briefly let out a small chuckle when he heard the Medic raise his voice. “Herr Sniper, I swear when I find you!” Sniper heard a rougher clack against the wood. Ah, that would be Medic stomping his foot like a child.

27 minutes to go.

Sniper’s eyes adjusted to the dark of the walls of the cupboard. Well, technically more of a closet really. But nonetheless, as he looked at the shelves in the slightly-larger space than he originally had presumed, he found only a few dusty cans of what looked like paint, a popped balloon, and a rifle. The rifle, to his disappointment, was broken though.

The dusty cans of paint sloshed around as he pushed them towards the front, and looked towards the backend shelves. Some papers, a wad of glue (which he grimaced at, accidently brushing up against it) that was thankfully rock hard and dry, and a book or two. Couldn’t read the title in this dark even if he wanted to.

There was a broom, too, but that was entirely unimportant and uninteresting.

As he picked up the book though and cracked it open, something fell out of the pages. A small paper maybe?

Sniper leaned down and picked it up, squinting at it. Like the book, couldn’t tell what it was or what it said, so he stuffed it into his vest pocket for later. The two books were tucked under his arms, and the man surveyed the rest of the space for anything left.

The door cracked open as he pushed against it lightly, and looked out into the hallway. Clear.

He shut the door behind him with a click, and ventured off to hide somewhere else where the probably unhappy doctor wouldn’t find him. This left out his van, his room, and anywhere near the doctor’s quarters. Kitchen was too easy, too open, and outside was too bright.

24 minutes to go, according to his watch.

The only options left really were to sneak into someone else’s room, find another closet, or perhaps the shack out back. The latter was obviously the best choice…

The shack itself was not in terrible shape. Maybe slightly rotten and smelling of old wood, but not bad by any means. Certainly not comfortable though. It mostly held old weapons or broken equipment, or anything else that the mercs decided to store in there. Like the Demoman’s scrumpy, which he needed to hide from the Scout, again.

The Sniper shuffled out of the base quietly, making sure to check for any sights or sounds (or smells) of any of his team members. It wouldn’t do him any good if he was found by anyone at all, anyways. The rest liked to poke fun at his fear of going to check-ups and what not. They’d out him in a heartbeat.

He did not want to see Medic. It’s not that he didn’t like the man, it was just that he really didn’t like the man when the man got a hold of a syringe and was looking at him in that certain way- yknow, the one where he looked a mix of exasperated and excited in being able to stick needles in people’s bodies? And he didn’t like being called a baby.

Scout was a baby, not him.

The shack was there in front of him soon enough, and with a gut full of thankfulness, Sniper closed the door behind him and sat down on an old box. With his back against the wall, he could let him mind wander for the 20 minutes left before war. Maybe nap a little…

 

 

An alarm and announcement of a creaky ladies’ voice jolted Sniper awake where he had been half laying, half sitting on the box. He groaned and rubbed at his now sore shoulder, which would definitely be making his shooting skills a little worse today. It was bound to be another tie, or maybe a loss, by how his team had been acting recently. It would take a miracle to get their morale up and ready to go and beat the opposing BLU team.

He breathed in and stretched, opening the wooden door of the shack.

Sniper wouldn’t ever admit how loudly he yelped when he was met a very displeased Medic inches from his face.

“Herr Sniper,” the man growled out.

Sniper grimaced and tried to sidestep the obviously angry doctor, and eyed the syringe the man was tightly gripping. “…Yes?”

“Sniper, I do believe I told you to see me in the lab this morning, yes?”

“Maybe?” He looked desperately at his exit, only a few steps away.

“But you did not come.”

Sniper turned to look at the Medic, finding him pursing his lips. “I was busy.”

The man just raised his eyebrow and pointedly gestured to the shack with the syringe. “You were busy, in there?”

“Yeah.” God he knew it was a shitty excuse, and his gut tightened with guilt from lying.

“Doing what? What could possibly be more important than getting your vaccine?”

_Shit, this is where I’m caught_ … “Uh, well… stuff. Speaking of stuff, Doc, I think we’ve got the battle today right about now! Let’s go, come on. Shots can come later!” The Sniper saw the man put the syringe in his pocket, and tried to drag the man away by the sleeve, only to have it tugged back and have himself spun around and a gloved finger pointed in between his eyes.

“You will get that shot. You cannot get out of it, as everyone has gotten it. I do not care for your slacking of health condition, you know this. Come to my quarters after battle, no exception, you hear me?

Medic was so close that Sniper could feel his breath and see the glint of his eyes from behind the glasses he wore. Inside his chest, he could feel the dull thudding of his heart speed up and sweat build easily on his skin.

He nodded.

“Good,” the man released the front of his shirt and took a step back to put distance between the two of them in the tensed atmosphere. “Now let us go. I believe we do have a battle to win. The Soldier berated me enough yesterday, and I do not want that again today.” The Medic smiled slightly, but it went away just as quickly as it had appeared.

“…Right.”

 

 

The battle itself was lame. They lost in the end, even though the Sniper shot off quite a few heads that day. (But the BLU Spy had stabbed him enough times to make up for that in retaliation.) Plus, half way through, he had his kukri nabbed by the man. (Got him back with a real painful stab to the gut that pinned him to the wall and let him bleed out slowly. Boy was the French man pissed after that.)

The Soldier had failed that day, knocking down his teammates more than once, jumping too far into the pit of action and dying quickly. The Demoman kept blowing everyone up, both RED and BLU. The Pyro had a real bad day, constantly getting caught up in whatever he saw through his Pyro-vision, distracted. Spy was nowhere to be seen… no surprise. Who knows what that man did during battles. Engineer had his buildings destroyed as soon as they were set up and the Scout ran too far and died too easily, while the Heavy kept getting killed with no Medic to help him.

The Doctor had been constantly everywhere, frazzled and anxious because all of them needed his help.

It was a bad day, again.

Funnily enough, as the group headed to the mess hall, they were quiet and contemplative. Sniper found himself falling in step next to Demo, and shoved his hands in his pockets as he looked down at the ground and watched his feet.

“Ay, lad. No need to look so down. Ya did better than the most of us anyways!” Demo chuckled beside him, and slapped a rough hand on his back. “No sulkin’, or someone’ll have yer ass.”

“’Course, sorry mate. Thanks,” he shook his head lightly and followed the Scout to the table while someone prepared the well-needed coffee. The Spy took the job quickly.

As the rest sat down in the room and began conversations about the battle of that day, it grew steadily noisier. It appeared losing one didn’t particularly break them down yet. Instead, Soldier seemed to be in a heated discussion with the smaller Engineer about building, and the Pyro eagerly nodded along. Scout just bugged the Heavy, smacking him around and laughing as the man dramatically swayed around with every hit.

As Heavy spotted him standing there, he nudged the Scout away from his face, and spoke up.

“The Doktor expects you now, you know? He will be unhappy if you do not go.”

Sniper sighed, grimacing when the Heavy tried to smile.

“It is not so bad, the shot. Will help, too.”

“…Right, thanks. Suppose I should go then.” He looked at the doorway, then at the coffee Spy was handling.

Spy lifted his own mug in salute, and grinned knowingly. “Never were good with medicine, were you bushman? Too scared of a needle to handle a shot?”

Sniper glared at him from across the room as Scout choked. “Yo, Snipes, you serious? Scared of shots, man that’s lame!”

He was out of the room with a few long strides, away from the jeering teammates of his. It wasn’t his fault, of course. Everyone knew that fear of needles was a big issue, and loads of people had it. He just happened to be one of those people.

The Medic’s lab door was wood as well, but darker in color, and had his symbol bigger than the rest of theirs. It creaked on its hinges as Sniper pushed it open hesitantly, peering in.

With a breath of relief, he stepped into the empty lab. Medic wasn’t there yet, so he could at least get a little familiar with his surroundings. Which were clean and just as sterile as he expected. He hadn’t been in this lab before, considering he avoided it within the week before the last, and they only arrived not so long ago. It had more metal and concrete than the rest of the base, and it appeared that the Doctor had moved in readily, judging by the posters of guts and diagrams that stared at Sniper and made his stomach turn a little.

He looked away from them, and tried not to bring his eyes to the rows of jars filled with most likely body parts and other miscellaneous things that aligned the wall next to him.

“Ach, Sniper! Good, good. A part of me expected you to not visit again!”

He turned quickly to look at Medic, who had opened the door, and stared openly in horror at the syringe- much bigger than the last- that he was holding.

He felt a bit light-headed, and definitely not in the good way.

That was one big needle…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbetad, as per usual, so any mistakes I make were mine.


End file.
